Addiction
by l03l
Summary: It's an addiction. It's the only way she can explain it.
1. Chapter 1

It's an addiction.

It's the only way she can explain it.

He drives her _insane_ at work. She knows he does it on purpose. It only makes it that much more frustrating when she succumbs, going to him every night.

She's not sure how it began.

One thing just led to another.

She never really understood people when they used that expression, because as far as she was concerned, one thing doesn't just lead to another, you either let things happen or you don't.

She understands now.

It was just another night, unwinding after a case. Beer bottles and take out containers littered her coffee table, and all of a sudden his lips were on hers (or her lips were on his) and she just didn't stop it.

She hadn't expected him to be so hard to resist.

Not that she'd ever tell him that.

He'd get that cocky little smirk on his face that she would never be able to wipe off.

She's never done drugs, but she thinks this is what it probably feels like. The high, the inability to stop, needing a fix on a regular basis.

So, yeah, she thinks it must be an addiction. That _he_ must be an addiction.

He's already smirking when he opens the door, and she knows he was expecting her. It's now become a rarity that she doesn't end up on his doorstep by the end of the night.

"Hi there, princess," he says, and she rolls her eyes.

Most of the time, she doesn't know how she tolerates him. But then that smirk will become this little smile, and coupled with this look in his eyes… It takes all of her willpower not to melt.

God help her.

She pushes past him, and he shuts the door softly.

"I wasn't sure you were coming," he says, nodding toward the time, illuminated on his oven.

"I wasn't either," she replies honestly.

"I was worried about you today," he tells her, and there's that look again. His eyes get all round and earnest, and she has to look away to stop herself from saying something stupid. Or rather, admitting the truth.

_Sometimes I think I'm in love with you_.

"When that guy took you…"

"Deeks," she warns, mostly because she doesn't want to discuss it with him. It's not why she came.

"Kens," he returns, sighing. "I'm afraid that this thing between us is clouding my judgement. That it's preventing me front having your back to the best of my ability."

"Deeks," she's surprised by his words, and she can't keep it out of her voice.

"I mean, it's always you. Today, it's the guy with the bomb, and a few weeks ago it was that guy in the club, and before that it was-"

"Stop," she strokes a hand across his cheek, and he exhales.

"I hate that it's always you. I'm afraid I'm not doing my job."

"Deeks, it's not your fault. I'm always the bait," she tells him.

It's the truth. Being the only female agent means that she's always the one putting on these tiny little dresses and caking on makeup to distract and or bait the suspect, and that usually means that she's the first one in the line of fire if things go wrong.

"I don't think Sam or Callen would look as good as I do in heels and a dress. You might be able to pull it off, though," she smirks, moving closer to him, her lips now only a breath away from his.

"Aw, thanks. Glad to see someone's noticing my potential," he smiles.

"You're a good partner, Deeks," she says. "It's not your fault, it's just the job."

"Some days I don't like this job," he admits, and she nods.

That's what it comes down to, really. That some days this job just sucks, and she likes to know that he's still alive. That they're still alive.

She kisses him, her lips brushing against his so softly that his eyes snap open in surprise. They are never soft, never gentle. Usually they're passionate and angry, but tonight is different. He can see it in her eyes as she pulls away, and he looks down at her with adoration.

Sometimes he wishes that they'd met in another life. Or maybe just earlier in life, when he was in law school and she was … wherever she was. Maybe then they could have had a normal, traditional life. Maybe they'd have a couple of kids by now, a house with a picket fence and two dogs.

But instead, they have this perfectly imperfect _arrangement_, where no words are spoken but the feelings are expressed. At least he thinks they are.

* * *

><p>It's the moments afterwards that he treasures, where she's in a haze of sex and exhaustion, where she'll let him run his fingers through her hair, or press kisses to her shoulder. Where they are just Kensi and Marty, no guns, no badges, no covers to uphold, no parts to play. Where she lets herself be vulnerable and she lets him see it.<p>

"Sometimes I think I love you," she mumbles, and he tries not to react. She's in that moment just before she succumbs to sleep, this blissful smile on her face and her eyes closed as he trails a hand up and down her back slowly.

"Yeah," he responds softly, unsure whether she is still awake. "Me too."

* * *

><p>By morning her carefully prepared defences are in place. She watches him, head resting on the pillow, completely dead to the world, and she dresses quietly.<p>

This is what they do.

This thing that they have isn't allowed during the day, when the sun is up to illuminate and witness it all. Only in the darkness, in the shadows, where they can deny and pretend

She turns on the coffee pot for him and leaves the house. She has to get home and get ready for work, so they can do this all over again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: NCIS: LA isn't mine, in case you were wondering. **

**Okay, so I didn't mark this as complete after the first chapter because I hoped to return to it at some point, and somehow, while cramming for exams, inspiration struck. YAY! So, here's part two. Enjoy, and a big THANKYOU to everyone who reviewed the first chapter. It's finished now :)**

* * *

><p>He can't pinpoint the exact moment this arrangement stopped working for him, but he knows when it hit him.<p>

It's around the time a witness slips Kensi his number and she looks at it with this little half smile as if she's actually thinking about calling him.

It really doesn't help that this guy is a marine, who according to Callen is exactly her "type."

He knows she isn't seeing anyone else, but that doesn't silence the voice in his head that's insisting she's just waiting for someone better to come along.

The guy being a six foot four marine who could probably out-bench-press Sam really doesn't help his insecurities.

Yeah, this really isn't working for him anymore.

* * *

><p>She doesn't come over that night, and it takes twenty minutes of pretending it doesn't bother him before he convinces himself he is going to go to her. He ignores the logical argument – that if she didn't come to him, she clearly doesn't want him to go to her – and gets in the car.<p>

He stops along the way to get take out because he doesn't like the idea of showing up without some sort of guise, despite its transparency.

He always thinks it's ironic that the outside of her house is perfectly kept; the lawn recently mowed, the yard neat, a welcome mat sitting in the centre of the doorstep. No one would ever suspect the mess that lies inside.

He knocks on the door, and she doesn't answer. He can't ease the concern that is stewing, so he knocks again, and this time the door swings open angrily.

"Hey," he smiles at her, but she just leaves the door open and retreats, so he takes it as an invitation.

He places the paper bag filled with food on her coffee table, and sits on the couch, watching her pace slowly.

"Kensi," he says, vying for her attention unsuccessfully. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she lies easily.

That she failed to come by after work isn't all that uncommon. After twelve hours of paperwork she'll usually opt to take a bath and sleep in her own bed, and he understands that. Some nights they just a little need time to themselves. But today was different, and he can see it in her eyes as she tries to avoid his gaze.

"I just wasn't feeling it tonight," she says, and he nods.

"Okay," he accepts that. Well, he would if it were true.

He thinks today was a poor time to have this whole epiphany about wanting her, all of her, for a relationship and not just a collection of one night stands that they never acknowledge. Her mind is clearly in other places.

"There's something else," he prods, and she stops pacing, but she starts chewing her thumbnail instead.

"Do you ever think about the future?" She asks, and he can't even hide his confusion.

That came out of nowhere.

"Yeah," he admits. The picture forms far too quickly in his mind _not_ to scare him.

"I'm just… I'm not sure I want this anymore, Deeks."

She looks conflicted, but he's too busy making sure his heart doesn't pound right out of his chest to notice.

"I'm sorry?" he legitimately needs to hear her say the words again, preferably with some sort of explanation.

"I just… Ten years from now, I don't want this."

"Me?" Her words sting, even though they are delivered with that soft tone of voice she reserves for behind closed doors.

"No!" She's quick to go back on the words, but the damage is already done.

"I just… It's taken me a while to realise that I still want those things I wanted when I was with Jack… I want a relationship with a future, a family… This… Whatever it is we're doing… It isn't conducive to achieving those things. So, I think we should stop."

Thank you, Wikipedia. How she manages to pull out even more complicated words when she's clearly anxious is a mystery to him.

The picture in his head of them with two kids, Monty and plenty of laughter is mocking him now.

"Oh."

He's too afraid now of being rejected to make the speech he was probably twenty four hours away from perfecting, the exact opposite speech to the one she just gave. The one about how he thinks this could really be something, if they let it.

"You don't see a future with me?" He asks instead, after a moment's silence, testing the waters.

"We're partners, Deeks," she states. "I don't want to lose that."

The sincerity in her voice makes his heart ache.

"I think we've been juggling it all pretty well for the last few months," he says honestly. He doesn't even think Callen and Sam know what has been happening when they leave work. Hetty probably does, but Hetty knows everything.

"Deeks," his name is always a sigh on her lips, and he hates it.

"Why are you running from this?" He questions.

Maybe things _had_ been getting more serious lately. Last week she actually ended up staying until he woke and they went in to work together, and just the other day she stuck up for him in front of Sam.

Huh.

Things started changing and before he realised it, they both started drifting in different directions.

"Kensi," he prompts, stepping into her personal space, and smirking at the indecision in her eyes.

"Deeks…" There's that stupid sigh again. "We want different things."

"What if we don't?"

He kisses her before she can say no again, and he feels her give in, going pliant in his arms and moaning softly against his mouth.

"God," she mumbles.

Well it's better than the sigh.

He sees the fear in her eyes, and he tries to look reassuring. Truthfully, he knows they'd probably drive each other mad. But he knows they'd enjoy every minute of it.

"I know you can't resist me, Fern. It's not a secret."

That makes her smile, because she knows how to do this. She knows how to bicker and go back and forth until she's blue in the face, which he thinks is pretty impressive given she never grew up with a sibling. He didn't either, but he and Ray sure acted like brothers.

She turns and gives him this dirty little smirk over her shoulder on her way down the hall, and he's powerless to resist. Any man would be.

* * *

><p>It takes him a while to realise that she just used sex to distract him from whatever discussion they were having, while simultaneously proving that he's the one that can't resist her. Sneaky.<p>

Well, it's not as if that was ever a secret.

"Kens?" He asks, and she mumbles vaguely, her eyes still closed as if she's trying to hold onto the promise of sleep.

"I see you in my future."

Apparently she fell asleep, because he doesn't get a response.

He really hopes she fell asleep.

* * *

><p>He doesn't leave before she wakes up. He knows it's what she always does, but he's taking a stand. Metaphorically. In reality he's sitting.<p>

It's all or nothing, and he's all in.

He's sitting up, leaning against the head board when her eyes open, and he smiles at the momentary confusion in her eyes. He wants to catch her before all of those stupid walls are resurrected.

"Morning, sunshine," he smiles, and she blinks the sleep from her eyes.

"Good morning."

Okay, so she isn't as flustered as he'd thought. He really should know better. This is Kensi, after all. But she doesn't look angry that he stayed, or that he doesn't look as if he plans on leaving anytime soon, so that's a start. She turns and sees the mug of coffee he made for her on the nightstand, smiling softly and reaching for it.

"Deeks?" She asks softly, and he turns to look her in the eye.

"Yeah?"

"I can see you in my future too," she confesses, and a wide smile spreads across his face before he gets it under control and nods.

"Well okay then."

"Good," she returns, putting the coffee back on the nightstand and reaching up to kiss him.

Problem solved.


End file.
